Did the nazi Cheeto really concede? When did my phone’s autocorrect start capitalizing Cheeto?
Whatever, he’s evil and he’s gone. Fuck him right up his orange ass.
I played guitar tonight. At first it was stress relief but then it was celebration.
My wife has a green thumb.
Patches is fucking pissed.
Miss Patches is anxiously awaiting the election returns from Georgia.
I have officially named this little guy Sprout McGreenie.
Patches broke a nail. Ouch. Temporarily self-declawed.
Remember when Star Trek Voyager had a hydroponic bay where they grew their own veggies and stuff?
Welcome to the Delta Quadrant, babie.
Check it out, the first ugly clock downtown picture of the year!
That means I left the house, which means I either did car music or had to drop a package off at a UPS drop box, right? Well how about both?
I started with car music in The Loop parking lot. I did four songs, all for volume four of The Great 2015 Re-Recording Project. All of them sound… eh. Oh well.
I then went to a UPS drop box near my old apartment but the box was overflowing with packages. Any clown walking by could have just dipped in and stolen a bunch of things. I decided to wait for another day. Tomorrow? We’ll see. Tomorrow is a work day. How depressing is that? Today is the last day of the Christmas long weekend/vacation season. It’s all down hill from here. BOO!
That “BOO” was meant to express displeasure. It was not evidence of a ghost. I just thought I should clear that up. You’re welcome.
I don’t understand how the neighbors haven’t complained yet. Not because of the noise, because of the awful playing.
We went for a stroll through the wild Tewksbury Tweet fields today. The view was splendid.
(Okay, I may have over done it. Tripling the recipe might have been a bit too much)
Inside the Red Head's Head 